


Sailing, Swimming and S'more/Love-Making

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Series: Cultural (Mis)Understandings [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: First Contact, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Anal, Camping, Fluff, I Love Me Some Cultural Differences Y'All, M/M, More Cultural Differences, Not Canon Compliant, Oral, Riding, Romantic Camping, Romantic S'more-making, The Great Outdoors!, ah shit i forgot one of the other smut tags and now i can't go back, anyway, these shipping-pancakes are fluffy as fuck, what is it with me and riding?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18339893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Zefram and Solkar have had enough of the hassle going on in Montana after the warp launch. They decide to take some time off in the great outdoors, which lead them to Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri, for a little bit of sailing, swimming and s'more/love-making.-This is technically a sequel to my previous fic "I'm Glad You Came(To Earth)" but it is definitely not necessary for you to have read it to understand the events of this fic. Enjoy!





	Sailing, Swimming and S'more/Love-Making

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-upload from my old account that I have deleted. The work upload was originally on July 29, 2018, and I have left it untouched so it is exactly as it was.

It was all a bit of a ‘fuck you’ to their respective higher-ups. But Solkar and Zefram had decided they needed to get away from the pressures coming from all sides in Montana. Just for a handful of days. They were both hard to fire, luckily, given their invaluable abilities in their individual fields. So neither were concerned with the consequences.

 

On something of a whim, they’d gone to the nearest air-base, found a departure to St. Louis, then one to Columbia Regional. All Solkar needed was to cover up his ears under a hoodie and no-one on the airplanes would be any the wiser.

 

When they landed in their final airport-destination in Missouri, Zefram set up a car rental - then a boat rental. One of those smart, light little things with a GPS that even a fool could use. In the same rental, he got a sizable tent and the equipment that went with it.

 

The reason this wasn’t entirely a whim, was that Zefram had planned it out in his head for a bit over the past month. They weren’t going through the hassel of flying all the way to Missouri, three entire states apart from Montana, for no reason. Zefram had a plan to drive them out to Lake of the Ozarks, right in the area where he grew up. 

 

He had told Solkar about this back in Montana, when they were talking it through. “I know this place like the back of my old, wrinkly hand. I wouldn’t go camping anywhere I didn’t know as good as I know this lake.”

 

“I trust that you know what you are doing.” Solkar said, a sentence that could so often sound sarcastic, but that was purely genuine coming from him. 

 

So now they were driving down the battered highway, only about an hour away from success. They did stop by a mart to get supplies, Zefram knew they couldn’t live off whatever fish or berries that may or may not be there, so he had to pick up some cans and produce.

 

Ever since they’d gone through the gates of the airport back in Montana, Solkar had kept close to Zefram. He wasn’t concerned with losing track of Zefram, he could hear him from anywhere in a mile-long radius with his sensitive ears. But humans aren’t so fortunate, Solkar knew, so if he himself wandered off to explore the many fascinating aspects of Northern American culture that could be found in an airport, what would Zefram do? Solkar decided it was best to quell his curiosity by tucking a hand around Zefram’s elbow while they were walking. Zefram didn’t say anything about that, but he was secretly enjoying the hell out of it.

 

But in the mart, Solkar found himself left unattended for a moment when Zefram had told him he would just go and pick up something called ‘popcorn’ from the other end of the store. Solkar was idly gazing at the displays of containers, noting the colorful labeling and marketing that loudly and creatively announced its contents. There was something artistic about it, Solkar found. 

 

He didn’t realize he was being gazed at himself, not until he turned and caught the nearby gazer’s eyes. An older woman, likely in the 70-80 range of Earth years, with softly blinking green eyes that were openly staring at Solkar.

 

And that was when he became aware of his mistake: he had slipped his hood off while they had been driving, as it irritated his scalp somewhat. She was staring directly at his ears. All Solkar could hope for was that she would move past him with her cart and not mention them.

 

But she opened her mouth to speak. “I’m sorry, I was just admiring your makeup. I hope you didn’t find my staring too rude!” 

 

Her quiet expression melted into a nervous laugh. She briefly touched his shoulder with her hand in a gesture of benevolence. Solkar didn’t mind, so long as she was merely touching his clothed figure, then she wouldn’t be interfering with his unshielded katra.

 

“I did not find your staring rude.” Solkar replied neutrally. Although he was curious at what she had meant by her first comment.

She still smiled cordially. She gestured to his head. “It’s just that they’re so realistic - your ears, I was thinking that the people in my LARP-club would be envious if they saw those. Do you mold them yourself?”

 

A handful of words Solkar didn’t recognize. He was lucky that Zefram turned a corner right then, taking long strides to come stand by Solkar’s side again as fast as he could without outright running. He had read the situation quickly. “Hey, Solkar, who are you talking to here?”

 

Solkar felt relief. “I was only approached by this lady who wanted to compliment me on my makeup. She thinks my ears are very realistic.” He relayed.

 

Zefram nodded, only overdoing it a little bit in nervousness. “Ah, well, I mean we are on our way to a LARP-event, and you’re halfway dressed as your character, who is an elf. So that must be why!”

 

The lady ‘ah’-ed as well. “Of course! That’s really cool. And who will you be showing up as?” She finally pointed her attention to Zefram.

He thought fast. “Oh, it’s - I dunno, I’m like a sort of… Space pirate, I guess. We haven’t LARP’ed that long, we’re kinda new to the scene, so don’t crucify us on details!” He now laughed nervously too. 

 

The laugh infected her as well. “No, of course not! Anyway, hope you two will have fun!” She moved on at last, dragging her cart away.

 

Zefram thanked her. Once she was at a distance, he looked to Solkar. 

“Close one… What in the hell were you thinking, walking around with your hood off?” He whispered, agitated but not angry.

“It seemed to have slipped my mind. It was a mistake and I apologize.” 

“I know. And you’re damn lucky that humans have something called ‘elves’ in our mythologies, and they so happen to share ear-shapes with you Vulcans. That lady thought we were going to a dress-up role-playing event. But I can’t guarantee that everyone will think like her when they see you.”

 

Solkar pulled the hood back over his ears. “I understand.”

Zefram briefly squeezed Solkar’s pinkie finger to lighten the mood. “Now come on, let’s get outta here.”

They made their way toward the cash registers. “Zefram?”

“Yeah?”

“What is a ‘space pirate’?”

 

\- - -

 

Zefram didn’t need a GPS in the last stretch to find where they were going. They pulled up at a dusty lot, no other cars in sight. Zefram killed the engine and announced: “This is it!” before opening his door. Solkar followed, going round the car with him to unload the trunk.

 

“We’ll just need to walk a little bit through the pines over there, then we’ll arrive at a wonderful little site.” He lugged a duffel-bag over his shoulder. Solkar grabbed as many boxes and bags he could haul with him in his two hands, which grabbed the attention of Zefram.

“Won’t you break your back doing that?”

“I am stronger than I look.” Solkar declared, secretly enjoying the confused amusement on Zefram’s face.

 

Through those pines, a bare bit of grassy land laid out before them. It graduated into a rocky terrain before it touched the lake’s water. Zefram dropped his things in a spot in between the water and the trees. Solkar followed, and once they had gotten all the stuff out of the car, Zefram took a good look at that canoe-like boat they had rented.

 

“We can leave our stuff unattended for a little while, we don’t have to unpack immediately. I was thinking, we could go for a short trip round the bend - just to see how everything’s holding up. So, you wanna go for a ride?” He tapped the boat with his boot a few times.

 

“You mean we transport ourselves in that boat, in the water? That I would like.” Solkar replied, walking over to grab one end of it. Zefram almost didn’t have to carry his end, Solkar seemed perfectly alright with balancing an entire canoe on his shoulder as they walked it to the water’s edge. Well, it was a light-weight canoe after all. Because there was no way Solkar was as strong as he was striking, Zefram pondered.

 

And in they went, Zefram only had to briefly instruct the Vulcan in naval etiquette before they pushed from the shore and let themselves be whisked away by the whirring of the little motor. Zefram worked the screen that both controlled speed, making turns and the GPS. He plotted in a course he knew would take them places he had hoped Solkar would appreciate.

 

He could lean back in his end, facing Solkar, who looked naturally cautious but curious. At first, his hands were grasping onto the low railing, but not with the grip of an anxious man. His face was certainly telling a different story, Zefram couldn’t help but smile a little at the obvious awe in Solkar’s eyes. And soon enough, his hands relaxed and were lain on his knees.

 

“The surrounding land is so rich in vegetation. It was impossible to see from the route we drove on to arrive here. Out here, it is so dense with foliage on every bank. The bio-diversity seems high as well.” Was Solkar’s way of saying he had never seen so much green in one place, that it was so beautiful in ways he hadn’t thought it could be. 

 

The boat took them down the undisturbed waters, the only sounds being those of nature and the hum of the motor for a long while. Solkar soon turned his attention from the green view to the blue view, looking around the edges of the boat, watching the way the water behaved, how a tail was created behind them and how ribbons of water emanated from the sides. He reached out to submerge his hand in it, feeling the movement and coolness of it slip between his fingers.

 

Zefram was taken out of his peaceful state of observing when a sharp noise buzzed in his ear. He winced, flapping his hand around to deter the mosquito. Once he had realized how odd that reaction must have looked, he reassured Solkar: “There are mosquitos out here on the lake, of course. They love lakes, and they love bothering humans. Be careful they don’t sting you.”

 

“Are they venomous?” Solkar asked.

Zefram stalled for a second, wondering how he was gonna explain it. “No, I mean, not really. Mosquitos live off blood, so they land on animals to suck a tiny bit out of them. Which would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that they leave a tiny bit of irritant in your skin, so you get a little red patch that itches like hell for a few days. No deadly subspecies of it on this side of the planet, but they’re definitely annoying.”

 

Solkar felt something on his dry hand. He brought it up to look at, and wouldn’t you know it: it was a mosquito that had landed on the back of his wrist. It was scuttling around a little, trying to find a good spot for extraction. Solkar merely watched it.

In turn, Zefram watched him watching the mosquito, unsure what else to do. Solkar looked so captivated, his scientific interest was certainly piqued. 

All Zefram could think was ‘ _What the hell happens when a mosquito stings a Vulcan?_ ’, fearing the worst. What if Solkar was violently allergic? There had to be things Vulcans couldn’t survive that humans could.

 

“Solkar, you better swat it, you don’t know what’s gonna happen if it pricks you -“ He blurted out, but was quieted by a flat palm being raised. Solkar still watched the insect, waiting. He was waiting for it to make its move? Zefram held his peace.

 

Because once the mosquito had stuck its trunk into the skin, a moment of blood-sucking passed, and then, from one second to another, the mosquito stiffened and blew away with the wind, dead. Solkar looked to Zefram, whose eyes were squinting in disbelief, his lips mouthing the words: “ _What the fuck_.”

 

“I suspected a mosquito would be poisoned by Vulcan blood before it could disperse its venom. Vulcan blood is copper-based, green when oxidized and has a remarkably different molecular structure from that of a human’s. Although I was surprised it passed away so quickly.” Solkar stated.

 

Zefram had a moment of staring before he collected himself again. He looked around, then back again after some silence. “Wait. Did you say _green_ blood?”

 

Solkar nodded. “A green as dark as your red blood.”

Zefram went ‘huh’, scratching his nape a bit in thought. “Fascinating.”

 

Another quiet moment of tranquility washed over them until Zefram sat up from the jolt of an epiphany. “Oh, shit. Now I know what we forgot to pick up at the rental. Lifejackets. You can swim, right?

 

“No, I cannot.”

 

A shiver of fear went through Zefram. “Really? Not even … Like, a little bit?”

 

“It’s not common for Vulcans to learn to swim, given our limited bodies of open water on our home planet.” Solkar replied, showing no signs of alarm himself. 

 

“Oh, geez. Well, if we do find ourselves in an emergency situation, you just cling to me. Although it’s unlikely the boat’s just gonna tip right over on these windless waters.” Zefram asserted.

 

Solkar went back to brushing his fingers through the lake. “I do wish I had learned to swim. There was a possibility for it in my youth. In hindsight, I should have taken it if I had known I would be going to a planet that was covered in approximately 71 percent water.”

 

Zefram pondered how funny it was that he had so easily taken the ability to swim for granted. Or more precisely, the cultural significance of why learning to swim is important in some places and in others it is not. Then something else made him wonder. “Wait, how old are you?”

“In Earth years, my 60th year was reached 2.3 months ago.” Solkar answered.

 

Zefram cocked his head to the side, looking intently and skeptically at Solkar. “No way. I’m almost 55 and you’re out here looking like this -“ Zefram gestured to his face with a chuckle, “at 60? Really? 60? Not even Cher could look that poreless at 60.” He more or less muttered the last sentence to himself.

 

Solkar had a knowing smile about him. “Vulcans age slower at a rate of 1 to 2.6 compared to humans. We average at a lifespan of 266 Earth years. Our cells therefore decay slower, even those of our skin, hair and others that would imply an appearance of superficial youth.”

 

Zefram had to take a seat even though he was already sitting down. Not only did Vulcans apparently have Super-Blood and Super-Strength but they lived for freaking eternities contrasted with humans. It made him feel a tad more vulnerable and appreciative of life. And it made him think, that maybe you should take the shots when you’ve got them. 

“What I was trying to say, was that you look amazing for 60. And I also bet that even under Vulcan circumstances. I bet you’re the most gorgeous 60-year old Vulcan out there.”

 

It was not Vulcan to express one’s gratitude with thanks. However, it was an Earth custom in any society and any culture. And Solkar rather liked that custom. “Thank you.”

 

\- - -

 

After a hot and clammy day on the lake, Zefram needed to get the sweat off his neck and it couldn’t go too fast. The camp was set, Solkar seemed content, the lake was looking brilliant in the late afternoon-sun; he couldn’t ask for better conditions.

 

“I’m gonna take a dip.” He announced to Solkar, who was standing by the tent, looking like he was listening for a bird. 

“You wanna come with?” Zefram was already throwing his cap and neck-tie to the ground.

 

Solkar directed his attention back to him. “What do you mean?”

“I’m gonna go for a swim. The water’s fine as hell today, I don’t wanna pass up this chance in case it gets muggy tomorrow.” Zefram hadn’t brought swimwear, not as if it was necessary on this deserted side of the lake. He was already making his way to the water’s edge, fully bare.

“I suppose I can try it. Even if I don’t know how to swim, it could be enjoyable to emerge myself in the water.” Solkar expressed. 

A minor bump in the road for Zefram. “That’s right, you never learned how to swim… I guess it’s about time you do - I mean, I could teach you?” 

Solkar contemplated it for a moment. He cast his thoughts back to earlier in the day when he had been thinking about learning the skill. Something about the blue water did pull him in. “I would like that.”

 

He walked down to Zefram, who had begun wading into the shallow waters. It was nice and lukewarm, only cool at first, the seemingly perfect condition for a non-swimmer. Although it would be better to be in an ocean, given the higher the saline content, the easier it would be to float. Well, can’t be perfect every time.

At least the water wouldn’t be too cold. Then again, a Missourian heatwave wasn’t enough for a Vulcan to downgrade from three to two layers, so all Zefram knew, was that he didn’t know shit.

 

He was soon covered up to his bellybutton. “I guess that what you wanna learn first, is how to float - you gotta go from a standing position to a horizontal position in one fluid motion - like so,” He flopped down on the surface, making his body flat and wide with his arms floating out to the sides. “Now you gotta move around to keep afloat, or you’ll sink. It’s all about kicking your legs out while paddling your arms. Hold on - “ 

 

Zefram stood up again, the water loudly running off of him. “The two simplest ways to swim are - I think they’re called the frog and the dog.” The gears ground in his mind for a moment, before he snapped his fingers, “Dogpaddling! That’s what that one is called, okay, so to dogpaddle, you go like this with your arms,” He made a digging-motion with his arms in the air, “while you sort of run with your feet. You see?”

“I understand.” Solkar affirmed.

“Okay, the other one - the frog, - you kick with your legs however you want to, and you go like this with your arms,” Zefram imitated a frog with its wide arm-movements. Solkar nodded as if he recognized it. 

“Yeah? You wanna come over here and try?” Zefram grinned.

“What temperature is the water?” Solkar asked. He was hesitant with removing his insulated vest.

“It’s lovely, I promise! It’s not as cold as it looks, especially here in the shallow end.” Zefram let his hands skid over the surface. Solkar looked like he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he was still removing his boots. 

 

Zefram decided to get up and approach him. “Hey, you don’t have to push yourself just to accommodate me and my whims. If you don’t wanna go, you don’t have to -“

“I trust you know what you are doing.” Solkar interjected, looking at Zefram while removing his sweater. “And besides - I have always wanted to know what it was like. Despite the dangers of swimming, many humans find it to be one of the most pleasant physical activities. I intend on finding out why.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Zefram exclaimed, clapping Solkar playfully on the shoulder, eliciting a small smile from him.

Soon they were both in the buff, walking down to the water, careful not to step on any sharp rocks on their way. Solkar made his first cautious step over the water’s edge, his skin turning goosey upon contact. Zefram caught his hand in his own, letting Solkar know that he was right there, ready to support him.

Solkar observed how his body adapted to the cool temperature. His skin soon relaxed, especially after Zefram had taken his hand. Before long, he was up to his calves in clear lake-water. He looked up at the expanse of water before him as he stopped in his tracks for a moment.

 

The devil on Zefram’s shoulder had an idea. He let go of Solkar’s hand and waded up to stand behind him, and as they were stopped, he managed to get a hand around Solkar’s leg and another hand on the side of his torso, so that in one, fluid motion, Zefram used all his strength to sweep Solkar off his feet and into his arms. 

 

He had expected a squeak of surprise, but all the reaction he got from Solkar was his priceless face. His body was as stiff as a board in Zefram’s arms, but it relaxed after an exhalation. His hand had slung itself around Zefram’s neck to at least hold onto something. Zefram had trouble holding back a mean snicker.

 

Zefram began wading out again. The hand that was hoisting Solkar up by his side felt a heartbeat even more rapid than usual. Soon, the surface was touching Solkar’s heels and spine, and they slowly sank into it, inch by inch until Zefram was floating Solkar around, still in his arms, moving them in circles to feel the water’s movement. It brought a relieved smile to Solkar’s eyes, which met with Zefram’s own. 

 

With both his hands linked behind Zefram’s nape, Solkar detached the rest of his body from Zefram’s arms and went into a standing position to be face to face. 

 

“You cold?” Zefram had a hand on Solkar’s back, the other on his shoulder.

“I am managing. It is not as cold as I had feared.” Solkar did find that Zefram being near him was a warmth in this all-encompassing coldness. 

 

Solkar immediately found the change in gravity to be the most enjoyable aspect of being in water. It was not unlike being in a zero-gravity chamber, like he had been many times during the training for the Vulcan Space Travel Program. You felt as though you were being gently hugged from all sides.

 

Although now, Solkar was literally hugging Zefram. Not for any reason in particular. It just seemed the most ideal thing to do, standing so close, his arms already slung around Zefram’s neck, he might as well press himself to him and rest his head on a wet shoulder.

 

Zefram sighed softly, deciding to rest his face on Solkar’s head. Without thinking, he ruffled his black hair with his nose, reveling in the subtle scent of it. They were really just standing there, shoulder-deep in water, forgetting all about those swimming-lessons. It could wait.

 

\- - -

 

After nightfall, and after a pot of vegetable-soup, the pair was sitting by the oil-barrel that acted as the container for their campfire. Zefram was enjoying the natural ambiance for now; all that was heard was the crackling fire, the distant swish of the lake and a cricket showing off somewhere. He was lying on his side, propped up by his elbow on a log, chewing a bit of licorice-root.

 

He had wrapped Solkar up in a fleece blanket, and the Vulcan was now sitting on the log next to his, gazing up to the partially covered stars. In Solkar’s head, he was mapping them out, making sense of the pictures he drew from one incandescent, gaseous sphere to another. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” Zefram softly asked. He couldn’t stop smiling at how subtly full of wonder Solkar’s expression was.

“Your stars - I now understand why your astronomers created patterns of them and affixed names to them.”

 

Zefram got up to sit by him, trying to see what he was seeing. The sparse clouds veiled some of the bigger groups, but certain constellations sure were clear to the eye from there. 

“My whole life I always thought the common names were kinda funny. Even after going to school, where the curriculum demanded extensive knowledge of astronomy, it got even weirder to me why the people who named them did what they did.”

 

Solkar looked at him, then back up to the sky. From the depths of his blanket, a hand extended out to point in the general direction of a group of stars. “That is Ursa Major, correct?” He asked, turning to see Zefram nod. “What else do you call it?”

 

Zefram grinned: “Now, that’s a good one - it’s the Big Dipper.”

“Big Dipper?” Solkar’s disbelief was thick in his pronunciation.

“Yeah, you gotta imagine it’s like - it’s a spoon you dip into things.” Zefram nudged his shoulder to Solkar’s. 

“I see what you mean about the naming process.” Solkar smiled, making Zefram laugh.

 

After the chuckling stopped, another comfortable silence fell over them. But Zefram suddenly remembered something that made him snap up into action with an exclamation. “I almost forgot - we could be making s’mores right now!”

 

Solkar was mildly startled by Zefram’s sudden outburst, but more so puzzled by the unknown word. “S’mores?”

 

Zefram didn’t reply, he launched to the box of supplies and dug up a container. Returning to the log, he was cracking it open, revealing a see-through bag filled with small, white, cylindrical objects and two square packets. Zefram didn’t explain yet, he instead leapt away after leaving the container next to Solkar. He went to the nearest tree and came back with two small branches.

 

“S’mores!” he finally exclaimed, as if it gave any further explanation for his actions. He threw one of the sticks at Solkar, who barely caught it. Zefram sat down at last, taking out the bag of the white things that he skewered three of on his twig. “You start by roasting a marsh mellow.”

 

“A _marsh melon_?” Solkar unsuccessfully repeated. 

Zefram contemplated for a moment if it was too cruel to let Solkar believe that - or if it was just funny and harmless enough to let Solkar believe that. 

“Yeah, exactly.” The devil on Zefram’s shoulder won again and again today.

 

He brought the stick up to the fire, and the marsh mellows soon took color and crisped up. With his other hand he extended the bag to Solkar. “You wanna try?”

 

Solkar was sufficiently curious. He took a single, pillow-like marsh mellow from the bag and did like Zefram, impaling it on the pointy end of the stick. He watched Zefram’s technique, trying to copy the way he constantly turned that tiny cushion above the fire.

 

“You don’t want to get too close - they burn really easy and get a bitter, black surface, you don’t want that. You just wanna give them a bit of a golden coloring all over. They’re almost entirely made of sugar, that’s why they’re so flammable.” Zefram already moved his stick away from the flames, bringing it up close to his face to examine the darkened marsh mellows. He prodded one with a finger, which immediately made him wince in pain from the heat. Solkar almost laughed at such a human display, but he was alerted of his own marsh mellow browning.

 

Zefram proceeded to open the two other packets, bringing out two light-brown, square tiles and something that looked like chocolate. After smelling it from a distance, Solkar could conclude it definitely was chocolate. 

 

Zefram placed a toasted marsh mellow on one square, pressing it down with a thin slice of chocolate and sealing it all with another square. 

“You take two graham-crackers, like so, you got a bit of chocolate, and - bam! S’more time. Ready for snacking.” Zefram took a big bite out of the little sandwich-structure, which squished the white, melty marsh mellow to all sides, sticking to his fingers.

 

Solkar finally felt like he understood. It had all turned out to be a culinary exercise. He attempted to remove the marsh mellow from his stick, although the half-melted substance didn’t want to leave easy. He ended up with something very much like the construction Zefram had made. All that was left was consuming it.

 

Solkar was paused by a rational thought before he could take a bite. Such a high concentration of carbohydrates in the form of glucose could impair his judgement; it would make him intoxicated. 

Yet, there was a naive part of him that believed it would not be a problem. The part that wanted to dive into human customs, shedding Vulcan customs in the process. He was with Zefram after all, it was just the two of them, there would be no judging eyes on him.

 

The thrill of the incredible sweetness hit immediately after Solkar bit into the crunchy cracker. Just like with Zefram, the marsh mellow-chocolate combination migrated from the edge of the cracker to his fingers, but neither cared. Solkar didn’t know if he liked the flavors that much. It was more the dizzying experience that interested him. It warmed him from the inside, not just because it was a hot snack, but because it was taking effect.

 

Zefram was becoming aware of his own chocolatey hands, which prompted him to suck the worst of it off. He looked to Solkar’s own hands, which he held out rather rigidly, not wanting to touch his blanket or anything else in fear of transfer. “Oh, wow, you got s’more all over you, too.”

 

With his more or less clean hands, Zefram cleared the things between them and scooted closer. “Can I help you with that?”

Solkar nodded. Zefram lowered down a bit while bringing Solkar’s hand up to his face. Without further ado, he laid his lips to one of Solkar’s fingers and started licking at it.

 

The sensation that occurred because of it was one that Solkar was entirely unprepared for. To have someone touch your hand, that was one thing - to have them use their mouth to suck at the flesh, to titillate the nerves in that way, that was not something Solkar had experienced before. 

 

All he could do was watch as Zefram moved his tongue from one finger to another, covering all the spots that had been stained by chocolate. Zefram rounded each fingers off by going out to the end and gently sucking in just the tip, making Solkar’s nerves crepitate unintentionally. 

 

Solkar had frozen in place from arousal. He knew he was getting hard and wet and all he could think about wanting, was to have that mouth, to have it kiss him, to let it keep sucking him the way it did, then let Zefram do whatever else he wanted to do with those rough lips of his. Yet Solkar could do nothing in his state.

 

Zefram must have picked up on that, as Solkar’s silence and slightly agape mouth spoke volumes. When he went up to look at him, his mouth was caught in a hungry kiss, a trembling hand was running down his shirt, there was a sound of a blanket being thrown to the winds. 

 

Solkar was gripping hopelessly at the buttons of that shirt, but gave up to move further down and caress Zefram through the front of his pants. That was the right move, as Zefram’s own frantic hands came to assist in the opening of his zip and buttons, letting Solkar to his goal of taking Zefram’s hardened cock in his hand. Zefram was not the only one who had had thoughts while he was doing his deed, he was reasonably hard in Solkar’s hand that needed to stroke him to his full potential.

 

Zefram too, was trying to get Solkar undressed, pulling roughly at his waistband. While breaking from kissing, Solkar got up to let everything below the waist slide down, his boots going too. Zefram had turned to straddle the log he had been sitting on, which prompted Solkar to straddle his lap in return. 

 

It was unbearable to have Solkar so close and so wet for him and only have Zefram’s cock outside, rubbing hopelessly at his posterior, so with a little positioning, Zefram entered with a relieved sigh. In the state they were in, all he could do was bounce Solkar with his thighs while gripping his back, having Solkar’s cock rut against an unforgiving shirt-front. 

 

Zefram knew he could do them one better. There was that abandoned blanket lying not far away. He had the idea to stand up, saying a silent prayer for his back, and while still gripping Solkar’s leg and shoulder to hold close to him, he could step away from the log. Solkar was hanging on tight in return. With a little caution, Zefram walked them to that blanket and dropped down as gently as he could, with Solkar’s back touching down first. 

 

But before Zefram could resume, Solkar breathily whispered: “Wait,” and he turned around to have his knees to the ground and Zefram leaning on his back. This Zefram liked, as he could now reach around and take care of Solkar’s neglected cock while he re-entered and began thrusting anew.

 

It was so easy to forget they were in public, that they were even in the outdoors while they were doing this. There was a part of Zefram that wanted to believe they were the two people left in the entirety of Missouri. Maybe even in the US. Ideally, in the whole world. 

 

Wouldn’t that make it so much easier? It would just be him and Solkar, the two of them being together, sailing, sharing meals, making love… Love. It was something like that which Zefram thought of as he went in and out of Solkar, while he leaned in to kiss whatever he could, his shoulder, his neck, in between panting for air. With Zefram’s hand sliding up and down Solkar’s wet cock during all of this, Solkar too had to moan for air. There were few things Zefram liked more than the sound of his partner encouraging him with moans. 

 

It was beginning to be enough for Zefram, he could feel himself nearer and nearer the edge where he knew he had to go. With a stifled cry of Solkar’s name, Zefram thrust slowly inside to come.

 

After half a minute of descending from his high, Zefram removed himself, but he wasn’t done. He gently maneuvered Solkar in such a way that he could lay him on his back, so that the only thing standing up was Solkar’s still-hard cock. 

 

Zefram laid down to face it, take it into his hand and begin stroking him before he put his lips to him. Zefram tasted the oil that came from all around Solkar’s cock, it was something mildly metallic but generally pleasant. He dove in, taking him into his mouth.

 

Solkar was getting so many new sensations thrown at him today. To have Zefram’s unbearably hot mouth as a live sleeve around his cock, that had to be the biggest of the day. He felt every movement of his tongue that slid around inside. Zefram found that he liked to tongue the ridges along Solkar, and Solkar seemed to like that too.

 

Zefram sped up gradually and Solkar soon had to do something with his itching hands, they flew up to hold on the sides of Zefram’s bobbing head. He wished he could have lasted longer, but with all the previous stroking and Solkar’s ability to center himself being impaired from the s’more, he soon came with a whimpering cry. Zefram made no move to go before Solkar’s cock had stopped twitching in his throat, and he slid off him, turning to spit the contents of his mouth into the dark. He returned smiling to Solkar. 

 

Solkar wanted to kiss that smile. He dragged Zefram down on him by clutching at his shirt-front, making him his blanket once again as he kissed him openly. Solkar felt truly intoxicated from all sides, from the sugar, from his orgasm and from tasting himself on Zefram’s playful tongue. It was perfect.

 

All perfect, except that after lying in their sweat and other bodily fluids for a hot minute, the mosquitos had begun to attack them more viciously now than earlier. Zefram was of course the only one truly at risk, and decided to get up and do something, all to Solkar’s grief of losing his coverage. 

 

Zefram didn’t think twice about what his next plan was. He removed his damp shirt, his pants that were half-way down his thighs, all of it. “I’m gonna throw myself in the lake.” He cryptically stated. 

 

Yet Solkar didn’t question it. He too didn’t think twice about what he was about to do, because he immediately shed his own tops and got up to run with Zefram through the darkness. 

 

Down the grass and stones they went, hitting the water and neither stopped there. They were both wading as fast as they could through the lake with heavy panting from the sudden workout and shock of coldness. They were probably only in for half a minute before Zefram ran out again, jumping with a need for movement from the instantaneous change in temperature. Solkar’s demeanor was calmer than that, but he couldn’t deny that going from a sultry orgasm to being engirdled with the wet chill of the water made his lungs feel smaller and his heart bigger. 

 

Luckily, there was a remedy for that, and that was Zefram. Once they had run up to the camp again, he pulled out a big towel for them to wrap themselves in. He started by laying it on Solkar’s shoulders, but Solkar insisted he get in there to dry himself too. They stood in the firelight, leaning a bit on each other, feet cold and rubbing against one another, but both warming up slowly from the inside. Zefram didn’t know why, but with the way Solkar was standing with him, he felt obligated to ruffle the sides of his black hair with the tip of his nose again. In turn, Solkar rested his cheek to Zefram’s, enjoying the slight rub of his stubble on him.

 

They eventually had to shuffle toward the tent, closing it behind them, making sure no traitorous mosquitos were inside, so that they could slide into their double sleeping-bag. 

 

\- - -

 

“Solkar?”

 

Solkar was softly awoken by the whispering of his name. It was obvious that it was still pitch black outside their tent. “Yes?”

 

“Are you awake?” Zefram still whispered.

 

“Yes, I am, Zefram.”

 

“I just realised something…”

 

“What is it?” Solkar decided to indulge him.

 

“How weird is it, that s’more kinda looks like a Vulcan name?”

 

“…What do you mean?”

 

“Like, obviously not in the pronunciation, but it’s got the same structure of like, starting with a letter, then having an interruption by an apostrophe, then a random word - y’know, like T’Hura. Or S’kata. And especially S’mara, which kinda looks like the word s’more. Isn’t that a wild coincidence?”

 

Solkar was certainly experiencing things on this trip he never thought possible. “I do not know if I would call it that.”

 

Zefram’s slurred voice was full of sleep as he limped his way through his following sentence; “I think I’m on to something here, I mean… What does this mean… What kinda inter… Interplanetary…” But he never finished it, due to him trailing off into peaceful slumber again. Solkar accepted that and shut his eyes.

 

\- - -

 

The pair was silently enjoying their breakfast porridge in the gray morning dew.

 

Zefram suddenly looked like he had remembered something odd. “... Did I wake you up last night to talk about s’mores or something?”

 

“Yes, you did. You mainly focused on the subject of whether the word s’more bears a likeness to Vulcan names or not, before you fell asleep, mid-sentence.” Solkar replied calmly.

 

Zefram looked to be somewhat ashamed, his hand shooting up to cover his eyes. “I can’t believe you tolerate me.” He groaned.

 

“I can believe it.” Solkar answered with pleasure.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of my Vulcan facts are pulled directly from the encyclopedia of My Ass. I just love making up factoids about Vulcans, let me have this one good thing lol
> 
> More fact-falsification: I have never been to Lake of the Ozarks, nor Missouri, even. I just read on the Memory Alpha(or was it Beta?) that Zefram is from Missouri and I looked at its geography for a setting that would suit my ideas. And now that I've done this minimum-effort research, I kinda wanna go to Missouri. Just google it ! It's darn beautiful.
> 
> Post-Posting Edit: I went back to the Memory Alpha and Beta for Zefram's pages to look for some more info for my next chapter. I feel just a little foolish, because I can't find where the hell I got the fact that he's from Missouri; Alpha says he's born in Bozeman, Montana, while Beta says he's born in St. Paul, Minnesota(!!). I don't know a damn thing and I probably mixed together the names because all the United States I know begin with an 'M', apparently.
> 
> So; Let's pretend he's from Missouri because in the end it doesn't make a difference. Alpha and Beta contradict each other so wildly on so many topics anyway, which I'd also like to address when it comes to Zefram's birth year: The novelization of the movie states he's born in 2013, which I have just a little trouble accepting. James Cromwell was like 56 in 1996, so at least it's close, but just like I wrote in this fic, I like to think of him as that age. And definitely not as a 33-year old, which the other source suggests, saying he's born in 2030 ?(!!)
> 
> In conclusion: Star Trek is fucked and I'm over here pulling facts straight out of thin air. Sorry.


End file.
